The clang of metal on metal echoed through the air, vibrating the worn wooden beams of the smithy. Wooin wiped sweat from his brow, his fingers slick from the heat of the furnace. His back ached from hours of toil, but the rhythmic sound of hammering kept his mind steady. This was his life now—endless work in the forge, under the grizzled gaze of a master blacksmith, trying to make ends meet for the family he had left.

The world had changed since the dungeons began opening up, revealing a new breed of monsters that ravaged the Earth. Cities were left in ruins, and humanity struggled to survive as these creatures poured from the dungeons, their twisted forms a terror to behold. But humanity adapted, as it always did. Hunters emerged—individuals who were gifted with strange powers to combat the monsters. Those who fought the monsters and survived became the new elite, their ranks and power determining their place in society. The higher the rank, the higher the pay, the more prestigious the life.

Wooin had never been one of those elite hunters. At sixteen, he was too young, too weak to face the horrors of the dungeons. Instead, he was stuck in a world that had no place for someone like him. He had watched his father die during one of those early monster attacks—his blood staining the streets, the house left in ruin. Since then, it had been just him, his younger sister, and their mother, struggling to survive in a city that had long since been overtaken by fear and corruption. The economy now revolved around the hunters—those who could protect the city and those who could not. And Wooin, unfortunately, belonged to the latter.

Despite this, he had managed to find work at the local smithy. It wasn't much, but it was steady. Every day, he forged weapons and armor for hunters—knives, swords, and shields, all designed to withstand the monsters that threatened the world. Most of the time, the work was simple, repetitive, and exhausting, but it was enough to keep food on the table and his family housed.

"Wooin!" a voice barked from the doorway.

Wooin straightened up and turned. The head blacksmith, a large, gruff man named Gyeo, stood in the entrance. His muscular arms bulged under his worn leather apron, and his beard was streaked with gray, but his eyes… those eyes were sharp, calculating. The man's gaze always felt like it could see right through him.

"What is it, Gyeo-sshi?" Wooin asked, trying to hide the wariness in his voice.

The blacksmith stepped inside, his boots heavy on the stone floor. "I need you to shape this steel. The client's impatient." He tossed a slab of gleaming metal onto the workbench with a thud.

Wooin nodded, moving toward the forge without a word. The heat from the furnace hit him like a wave, and he quickly set to work, placing the steel into the roaring flames. As the metal began to glow red, Wooin worked quickly, hammer in hand, shaping it into the form the client had requested.

Gyeo watched him with an odd intensity, his arms crossed. "You've gotten good at this. I'll give you that," he said, his voice low, almost like a compliment. "Strange, though… you've only been here a few months, and already you've managed to keep up with the older boys. You've got potential, Wooin."

Wooin stiffened. He had heard this before. It was always the same story. The praise, the compliments, and then the request for favors that were far too personal, far too dangerous. He clenched his jaw, trying to keep his expression neutral.

"I'm just here to do my job, Gyeo-sshi," Wooin replied, keeping his voice steady.

The blacksmith chuckled, his laughter gravelly and low. "Of course. Just a kid with no ambitions, huh? But you can't fool me. I've been in this business long enough to know when someone has talent." He leaned in closer, his breath heavy with the scent of iron and sweat. "Listen, Wooin. I can get you into the ranks of the hunters, if you're interested. I know some people… influential people. If you show some initiative, there's no telling how far you could go."

Wooin's heart skipped a beat, but he forced himself to stay calm. He had heard similar offers before. Most of the time, they were from people who saw him as a pawn—a tool to be used for their own gain. His father's death had taught him that the world was full of predators, and people like Gyeo were no different. He had to be careful. He wasn't about to fall for some trick again.

"I'm fine where I am," Wooin said, his voice firm. "I don't need any favors."

Gyeo didn't seem offended, but there was a flicker of something dangerous in his eyes. "You'll change your mind sooner or later," he muttered. "The world's not kind to those who don't rise up. You'll need strength if you want to protect your sister and mother."

Wooin's grip tightened on the hammer, but he forced himself to breathe deeply. "I'm doing what I can."

The older man gave him a long, appraising look, as if weighing something in his mind. Finally, he shrugged and backed away. "Well, suit yourself. But remember, Wooin, the world's a dangerous place now. You can't hide behind a forge forever."

As Gyeo turned to leave, Wooin couldn't shake the unsettling feeling that lingered in the air. He wasn't sure whether Gyeo was being genuine or if he was trying to manipulate him. Either way, Wooin had no intention of taking the bait. His mother and sister were the only ones who mattered now, and he'd do whatever it took to keep them safe.

The sound of Gyeo's footsteps faded as he left the smithy, but Wooin didn't relax. He couldn't afford to. The world outside was a jungle, and it didn't matter if you were a hunter or a common smith—everyone was prey to someone.

Wooin turned back to his work, the rhythmic sound of his hammer against steel filling the air again. He'd learned long ago that in this new world, trust was a luxury few could afford. And he wasn't about to let his guard down again.

Not when the monsters weren't the only things he had to worry about.